


Glowing In The Dark

by swenfoxx



Category: Carol (2015), The Price of Salt - Patricia Highsmith
Genre: Canon Lesbian Relationship, Disability, F/F, Lesbian Sex, Modern AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-13
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:31:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649796
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swenfoxx/pseuds/swenfoxx
Summary: In 2008, Therese Believet is the protagonist of a big exhibition hosted by The Times. Little did she know that night — and a particular someone — would teach her that the essential is invisible to the eyes.





	1. First Look

**Author's Note:**

> Heyyy! I'm so excited about posting this and at the time I feel like I'm not ready. This is my first actual fanfiction, since I've only written oneshots by now so, please, tell me what you think!  
> Thank you!

The air was cold even inside the coffee shop. The corner of Madison with 5th avenue was Therese’s very old spot for breakfast. She was sitting on the smoking lounge when she started snapping pictures of the outside. Therese hated the chilly weather, but still loved the way people would be so close to each other in order to have any heat added to their cold skins. She took at least five pictures a day at that same spot – and looked over at them later, comparing the difference between every person snapped through her lenses at the same time of different days. Therese had created a routine out of it.

She could feel her body senses starting to slow down even after the three coffee cups she’s obligated herself to drink earlier – probably caused by her lack of sleep the night before.

Therese has always been an unusual girl. As a young woman and beginner in photography, she would ask people why everyone seemed to just look at things and not really see them. How could one not notice the shapes, the textures, the buildings, the flowers and even people. The way they smile, the way they move, the way they touch.

When Therese went to live on her own, her friends would always tell her she would sound ridiculous in love. If people tend to notice everything about their lovers, Therese would probably cut them open and watch every detail of their insides, seeing that the outside would not be enough, they would say.

 _That_ , Therese thought, _I never had the chance to experience._

 

* * *

 

Therese could feel her insides burning, butterflies dancing in her stomach. She was wearing a black short sleeve lace top, the fabric scratching against her cleavage skin, but she couldn’t care less. Therese took a gentle step inside the building. Her head was about to explode when she took a deep breath, her chest lightly going up and down. She had been here before, this same building.

But it didn’t feel the same.

Stepping into a room full of art and photography by big prestigious artists was breathtaking, she would say. Getting to look at every single image and try to imagine what exactly made the artist pay attention to that scene. Was it the light, the contrast, the set of colours or the particular glance of a distant smiling girl? Stepping into a room full of art of your own creation was something entirely divergent – being apprised of every essence, every detail of what you captured. The knowledge of every word said in between the flashes and lenses, every breath. It was a whole new experience and Therese wished, for a moment, that it would never end.

She greeted everyone from The Times – the people responsible for that old dream building its first breath like a newborn. But her smile was only wide when Dannie, her best friend, stepped in, mesmerized by the hang up panels. Dannie looked around, looking for the brown eyed girl but Therese was already behind his back when he turned around. “So… What do you think?,” she asked, the smile on her face even wider while Dannie took another look around before answering.

It was the first time Therese would show her work to people she did not know. She had been working at The Times for over 2 years now and she had learned during that time that artists could come and go. She had never, ever dreamed to meet the people she met and to have someone like the art executives to trust her this magnificent exhibition.

“I – I don’t know what to say,” he stuttered. “This is so exciting. I am so proud of you, little one,” he took Therese in his arms and enveloped her in a hug.

“You have no idea of how nervous I am right now. I’m afraid of talking to people and having no idea how to build a sentence!,” she said, too loud for a whisper and Dannie burst into laughter before letting her go.

“Look at all these people, Terry,” spinning on his feet, he said. “You’re going to be famous!”

Therese laughed hard. She knew that wouldn’t happen, but enjoyed the feeling of every little bit of possibility. “I am so not –“, she stopped.

“What?,” Dannie asked. “Did you just spot a celebrity?”

But it wasn’t a celebrity. It was a particular someone.

Therese felt as if there was no one there anymore. She felt at ease. All of her burning was replaced with a spontaneous feeling of peace. Only minding the blonde curls that walked through the art gallery. Therese gasped. “No, no celebrity. Just – just someone I thought I knew.”

Therese knew for sure that she had never seen that woman before – she would remember those eyes and face – and that she had just lied to Dannie. She didn’t look at him for 20 minutes after that, just following the blonde’s steps into the gallery. Dannie kept talking about someone quitting his department at work and Therese was sure she could catch that up later.

“Dannie, I have to go to the bathroom,”

“Right now? Don’t tell me you have diharrea. You don’t right –“

“No. I just need to pee,” she glanced, not even sure what exactly the young man asked. “I’ll be back in a minute,”

Therese knew she had to walk away from Dannie but wasn’t sure how to approach the woman. She took small steps as she walked away, getting closer to the sitting body. The blonde woman had grey eyes and her legs were crossed underneath the jacquard fabric of the dress that covered her body from the V of her neck to the root of her knees. Now, sitting down, the dress covered less of her legs and Therese felt her own shaking.

“Who are you?” the woman turned her face to Therese as soon as she was about to sit just right beside her. “I mean, I’m sorry,” her voice made Therese tremble.

“I’m Therese,” she whispered. “Therese Belivet,” trying to sound bolder than she actually is, Therese made her voice louder.

“The photographer?” her voice was deep, but Therese did not feel as if the woman paid attention to her.

“That would be me,” Therese smiled. “What’s your name?”

“Carol. Carol Aird.”

“That’s quite a beautiful name,” Carol smiled and looked away. “So, are you enjoying the exhibition?”

“Oh no, silly,” Carol let out a soft laugh and smiled at the younger woman, “I’m blind.”


	2. The Colors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments, I appreciate each one very much. 
> 
> V, you're not exactly a beta reader, but thank you for helping me with this! :) 
> 
> Also, I promise from now on chapters will be longer than 1000 words!

_“So, are you enjoying the exhibition?”_

_“Oh no, silly,” Carol let out a soft laugh and smiled at the younger woman, “I’m blind.”_

 Therese kept her face still. She waited for the blonde to say something for at least forty seconds, but it felt like an hour. Nothing came. Carol just kept the grey eyes still.

 “I’m – I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to -,”

 “It’s okay,” Carol interrupted. “Not everyone notices at first, I’m used to it,” she smiled and Therese kept her eyes moving as Carol’s mouth did.

 “I’m really embarrassed right now,” Therese whispered, looking at the ground as she felt her cheeks burn. Carol grinned.

“I can sense you’re blushing,”

“Wha – I mean, how?”

“When you’re blind, you sense things you didn’t before. You learn how to interpret reactions, sounds, everything. People think I don’t seem them, but I do,”

Therese’s stomach turned. Carol’s voice was as deep as her eyes, while staring at something. Her mouth was covered with a pinkish red lipstick and Therese wondered if she was the one to choose it.

“Can I ask you something?”  Carol nodded. “What do you do at an art gallery – I mean, - if you can’t, you know, see”

“I don’t feel anonymous. I have been to art galleries before I lost both of my sights. People wonder around, they’re always looking at something. Even if they are not. If you stand there and look at the white wall ahead of you, someone will certainly look at it with you,” Carol smiled at her surround. She knew Therese was smiling at her words. “I feel like I can see when I’m here.”

Therese couldn’t stop smiling when Carol finished.

“Are we looking at something?” The blonde asked, keeping her head forward.

“Yes,” Therese looked up. The time she had been speaking to Carol, Therese completely forgot where she was. Until she looked up to the panel hang up just in front of their eyes. Therese smiled. “It’s a picture. Black and white. A tall skinny woman holding her child. He is probably around three,”

“Where did you take it?”

“Just from the inside of a building,”

“So it has glass between the lenses and the people. Can you see it?”

“Not really. I could, though, when I took it.”

“What’s the colour of your eyes?” Carol asked, and Therese’s cheeks went red.

“Brown,”

Carol sighted. “I love brown eyes –“

“Terry! There you are!” she heard Dannie’s voice screaming from behind her back and Therese closed her eyes to realize her moment with Carol was about to end.

“Dannie,” she started.

“Everyone is looking for you!” Dannie looked at the blonde and took his hat off, getting it close to his chest. “I’m sorry, I have no manners. I’m Dannie McElroy,” he gave Carol a glance. Carol smiled, following the sound of their voice.

“I’m Carol Aird.”

Therese tried to say something, but she was too embarrassed to tell Danni why Carol wasn’t looking directly at him. Therese stood up and looked at Carol, who knew the woman was no longer sitting beside her.

“I – I supposed I have to go,”

“You’re the star of the night, dear,” Carol smiled. “I’m sure everyone wants a little bit of you today,”

Therese didn’t want to get away from her. Her feet suddenly felt as if they were glued to the floor.  After a few seconds, Therese waved, “Goodbye, Carol.”

Carol was a tall, gorgeous woman. Losing her sight at the age of fifteen wasn’t something easy for her. It is different – when you are born blind. You’ve never seen colours, even though you wish you did. You’ve never seen people. Carol didn’t know what would feel worse. She knew how people looked like. But Therese, she couldn’t imagine her silhouette. Even though Carol was sure her hands were soft. And her eyes were brown.

Carol was reduced to something that imagines Therese. What she was wearing, whether her skin was light or dark, if her smile was bright or shy.  Carol tried everyday to think about the colors – she didn’t want to forget what they looked like. Some time ago, around the year of 2005, Carol realized she didn’t remember the color blue anymore. Then, she started thinking about them every day – she  would associate things with them. The music. If slow, pale cream. If disco, navy glittering blue. If sexy, blood red. The feeling of holding her daughter, light pink. Hearing the singing birds and the sound of the wind blowing, light green. Having drops of rain touching your skin, that’s what grey felt like. The sound of Therese’s voice was a sweet, pale lilac.

Carol didn’t feel bad for being blind – until someone made her feel so. Like the one time the overload of kindness made Carol feel uncomfortable: when Carol stopped a woman at the edge of a street corner to ask for directions. The woman wanted to guide Carol through every step she took, and Carol had to firmly tell her she was fine. After that, she was not invisible anymore. The woman watched her every step and Carol could feel her eyes on her back. Carol liked to touch everything. The walls, the texture of tables, people’s hands, their faces.

Carol then realized – she didn’t know Therese’s countenance because she didn’t touch her.

“Therese,” she spoke up. Therese already had her back turned to Carol, but she could hear her voice loudly. She turned her head and faced the blonde, now standing up, holding to her white cane, and Therese wondered how she didn’t notice the object before. Carol walked slowly towards Therese’s whisper.

“Yes,”

“I still don’t know how you look like,” she said, taking one more step until she could feel Therese’s body right in front of her. Therese felt the air growing heavier. Carol reached one of her hands and right before her fingers could reach Therese’s cheek, she asked. “May I?”

Therese felt her heart pound. “Y- Yes,”

Carol reached out to the warmth of the younger woman’s cheeks. Her fingertips touching the soft skin of the cheeks. Rose, Carol thought. The corner of her eyes. Brown, Therese had told her. Small eyes. Her eyelashes felt ticklish against her long fingers. The nose – delicate. The lips. Carol wished she could lean in and feel if the lips were as soft as she felt. Therese closed her eyes, her face leaning closer to Carol’s touch.

“What a strange girl you are,” Carol whispered.

“Why?” Therese opened her eyes, facing the woman’s vague gaze.

“Flung out of space.”

 


	3. Real and Inverted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a little bit bigger :)  
> Thank you for the comments, you all.   
> Some Carol/Abby for you, May. <3

Seeing depends on a multi-faceted, complex process. And so it is seeing through a camera. The luminosity enters through the cornea and lens, and as the shutter in the complexity of the camera, the pupils, at the center of the iris, control the amount of light that gets through to the lens. The lens – to focus the light and create the image, real and inverted. In a camera, film is used to record the image; in the eye, the image is focused on the retina, and a system of rods and cones is the front end of an image-processing system that converts the image to electrical impulses and sends the information along the optic nerve to the brain. The lens is critical in forming a sharp image, however; this is one of the most amazing features of the human eye, that it can adjust so quickly when focusing objects at different distances.

It was during the summer of 1982 that fourteen years old Carol Aird was diagnosed with glaucoma at its very end-stage. The first symptoms did not lead any doctor to that possibility. Carol would experience dizziness, nauseous and even vomiting. Sometimes, she would swear she had a rainbow vision, but Carol didn’t tell anyone that. It had been a long waiting year – the doctors told her they would, indeed, try the notorious treatment, but Carol knew everytime she had temporary sight loss that it was not working.

Carol watched her mother cry the day she told her she didn’t believe in her recovering. Linda, how Carol would call her, was a widow woman and Carol was only around four when her father died. Linda was strong, but yet Carol could only reach the peacefulness of her deep blue eyes. Carol was born in the winter of 1968, her mother had just turned 26.

At the end of 1983 spring, Carol could only see blurs. Sometimes, rarely, her eyes could focus. Carol could only laugh at her condition when Abby was around. They met during the spring break of 1977 –when both had just turned 9 and had been inseparable ever since. Abby had the most outrageous sense of humor – a bit dark, Carol dared to say.

“Think about it, people close their eyes to kiss anyway,” Abby said, while they shared a twin sized bed back in Carol’s old room. “You won’t miss much on that.”

Carol couldn’t help but laugh. “I guess it’s different, though. When you choose to close your eyes and when you just can’t see,”

“Some chicks at school told me you just close your eyes when you like the person you’re kissing,” Abby rephrased. “So you just have to kiss the right person, I guess.”

“Yes, I guess,” Carol’s hand was on the top of her stomach and she could smell Abby’s conditioner. “I just wanted to know how it feels, you know, before I can’t.”

“We could, uh, try it, maybe?” Abby said, putting her body’s weight on her elbows before looking straight at Carol. Well, maybe not that straight.

“What do you mean?” Carol’s eyes widened. She had had feelings towards another girls, yes, but her insides always told her it was temporary. _You’re just admired by everything because you know you won’t see it anymore_ , she told herself. But the chills Abby’s words sent through her body said otherwise.

“We could kiss,” Abby said firmly this time. She grinned at Carol’s face. “We’re friends, Carol. We’re both about to turn 15. Don’t you think it’s time for your first kiss anyway?”

They kissed that night. Slowly and then heated. Abby told Carol that was probably the grossest thing she had ever done, but Carol knew deep inside her that she was lying. Abby showed Carol how boys liked them to behave during a kiss, but Carol didn’t care about that at all. But it was – at that time, a good excuse to have Abby kissing her. Abby laughs when, every once in a while, she thinks about that night, and compares their kisses to every other kiss they had years after. It was something only the two of them knew about each other.

“I met someone,” Carol admitted and Abby laughed.

“Who’s the lucky bastard?”

“You know Harge was the only bastard I could cope with,” Carol put down her mug, and Abby leaned on the table to make sure it was far from falling down the edge. “She’s young.”

“How young are we talking about?” Abby lit the cigarette between her fingers.

“Really soft skin young.”

“That’s something.”

“She’s a photographer.”

“Don’t tell me you’re into a celebrity,” she grinned. Carol’s smile went wide. Therese was no celebrity, but Carol knew she had the potential. “That’s dangerous.”

“She’s not a celebrity.”

“Spill, woman. Give me clues.”

Carol’s mind went straight to the moment she heard Therese’s sweet and whispering voice. “She’s the photographer of the exhibition I went to on Saturday. I know a combo of three things: her skin is soft, her eyes are brown and her name is Therese Belivet. Nothing more.”

“No phone number? E-mail? You used to be better at this, Carol,” Abby laughed.

“I didn’t have the chance to ask.”

“You know, you’re lucky we have the internet.” Abby got up and Carol knew she would be back with a computer on her hands. But it never really occurred to Carol that she could have googled the younger woman. “She’s a photographer, she must have a website.” Abby opened her laptop and typed. 

“What does it say?”

“’Therese Belivet is the new photographer of The New York Times, and is the leading figure of the exhibition of The Most Influentional Pictures of The Times. Therese’s photography explores and reveals the vitality, diversity and evolution of the news photography of The New York Times.’”  Abby read. “She sounds like quite something.”

“I have no clue if I’ll ever get to see her again.”

“I have an idea.”

 

* * *

 

 

Working at The Times made Therese feel like a little girl, a teenager. She worked at the footage department – inside the prepress process of the productions procedure. She deals basically with the press, and rarely worked with the postpress people. Therese felt more comfortable with them, though, seeing that Dannie was there all the time. Therese met him right after she moved to New York to live on her own.

It was a fresh memory, as it had just happened – she was still struggling with the moving when she heard the knocking on the apartment door. The very first knock, she thought right after opening it to a smiling young man. Dannie’s face was comforting, he had clear chocolate eyes and dark brown hair. He had a piece of apple pie and went to see if she needed any help from him. The new neighbourhood girl smiled and said she could use some.

Dannie got her a job in 2006, a year and a half after Therese moved to the building. She was sure, after some time, that Dannie would be around forever.

“Camon, up!” Therese told him. “We have to go.”

“What are you talking about?” Dannie protested and Therese knew he had only slept for a few hours. “It’s Saturday, Terry.”

“It is. Saturday, December 15th and, precisely,” she looked at the watch around her wrist. “2pm.” She emphasized and Dannie’s eyes opened, wide and surprised. “Are you awake now?”

Therese couldn’t see him as a full grown-up man – Dannie was too naïve for that. He had this innocent essence Therese wished he would never lose.

“Julie’s going to be pretty upset.”

“How could I forget that?” he asked himself, making his way through the room and into his closet. _Now it begins_ , Therese thought. Daniel was worst than her when it comes to getting ready. She would spend at least a whole hour waiting for him. “At what time did it start?”

“One,” Therese grinned. “You’re a terrible boyfriend.”

“She’s going to hate me, isn’t she?”

“She will,” she laughed.

Julie was the only former girlfriend Dannie has ever had. Therese understood why girls had a hard time with him – Dannie still had a young boy’s mind. He didn’t have marriage or kids in mind. He dreamed about traveling around the world and getting to know places like no one really did. Dannie’s mind was never on the ground, or on anyone else. Nevertheless, Julie seemed to understand that naïve part of his.

“So… Richard’s going to be there, right?”

Dannie sensed Therese’s tone. ”Probably, yes,” he starred at her. “Terry, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

“No,” she snapped. “Julie’s my friend too. I’m going,” Dannie gave her a smile before entering the bathroom. “They better have beer. Or wine.”

Later that one day, Therese couldn’t help but laugh at Julie’s struggle at Dannie. It was clear she wasn’t happy about him being almost two hours late for her birthday lunch party, but Dannie was a sweet boy and knew how to fix things. He spent the whole day making her laugh and Julie noticed Therese had her smiling eyes on them all day.

She thought of Carol and inquired what she was doing. _Has she been to any other art galleries_ , she wondered. She noted her smile on her face everytime she thought about the woman. Therese had spent the last four days feeling like the biggest idiot. How could she leave without asking Carol for her number? Even Dannie could notice something went on that night. And so did the butterflies in Therese’s stomach.

Therese felt relieved when she knew Richard wasn’t going. Dannie felt the same. Everytime Richard was around, she would have no good time. Since the break up, Richard believes she and Dannie have something together. He had been violent more than once and Therese felt extraordinarily uncomfortable when he was around.

“I should be going,” she warned both Dannie and Julie. “I still have this big event to cover later.”

“So, how are things going at The Times?” Julie asked.

“It’s great. I’m happy there.”

“I’m glad to hear about that. May I call you sometime? I have an offer, just a beneficent, nothing too big, but I want to promote your work.” The girl, a little bit taller than her, smiled.

“Thank you for that, Julie,” she smiled. “You can ring me anytime.”

“I will. Have fun at your event,”

“I doubt that I will. Just a bunch of wealthy people gathering. But thank you, Jules.”

Therese said her goodbyes and went straight home. She hated to dress up all formal. Therese liked her dressing – her long dresses and even the shorter skirts she owned. She certainly did not understand the purpose of gala. Why couldn’t everyone dress their own way? She suddenly missed her father – Therese was still a little girl when he passed away, but she could still remember the husky voice telling her she should be anything she wanted if she wanted it bad.  

Therese had on her black embroidered long sleeve dress when she left the house, around nine. Even after two years of working as a photographer, Therese still had her usual nausea when she was about to cover something. That night, she wouldn’t be alone. There must be tons of photographers there, she thought, given the grandeur of the event. 

As if following the events in her head, the occasion was remarkably tedious. Therese was excited to meet some people – but the moment was over right after everyone went to dance. She enjoyed one of the fruit canapés when a familiar voice, sharp and deep, asked, right to her back:

“Therese?”


End file.
